Heads I Win, Tails You Lose
by ColoradoMFC
Summary: This is the follow-up to my previous story, Condemned. It is meant to be the first case the CM team takes after Elephant's Memory. Boys are being kidnapped and murdered in the Pacific Northwest. Not exactly Reid-centric, but may become so occationally.
1. Chapter 1

**Finally, I found some time to get this story started. This is going to be more like an episode of CM than my previous story. Mostly, I wanted to see if I could do it (it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. LOL!). It's meant as a continuation to my previous story, Condemned, and is the first case the team faces after Elephant's Memory (season 3). Reid is still struggling with his addiction to dilaudid, but Hotch and Morgan are trying to help him. If you haven't read Condemned, and want a little more background, you can probably start at chapter 10 and be just fine, or you can just ask me. I promise to answer any questions you might have. Please enjoy and consider commenting when you finish.**

**This is a full-team story, but may become a bit Reid-centric at times.**

**I do not own, rent or otherwise lay claim to Criminal Minds, I simply use it for my own twisted fantasies.**

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Morgan and Reid boarded the jet finding J.J and Emily already waiting for them. Hotch and Rossi were waiting for the team in Seattle. The two eldest team members had originally been sent as representatives of the B.A.U. at a law enforcement conference, but had stumbled upon a number of local cases that possessed similarities – too many to be a coincidence. From his phone calls with Hotch, Morgan already had some of the details, but Emily and Reid still needed exposure to the gathered evidence. Once they were in the air, as the senior agent on board, Morgan turned the floor over to the woman with the information, "What've you got, J.J.?"

Confidently as always J.J. began laying out the facts as they knew them so far, "Hotch sent this over last night," continuing, she passed out the official documentation to the entire team, "The Seattle P.D. investigated a report of a missing child about a month ago. The investigation hit a dead end when they found the body two weeks ago." She passed around pictures of several recently murdered boys.

Morgan studied them carefully, "How many boys have they found?"

"The Seattle P.D.? Two. The rest of these boys," J.J. resumed indicating the pictures spread out on the small table, "were found all over the Pacific Northwest, from Bellingham to Eugene, and Olympia to Pocatello. Six in all – so far."

Reid was confused about something, "These cross state lines. How did they link the cases?"

Morgan answered this, "the conference brought the local investigators together. They started talking, and someone connected the dots." J.J. nodded her head in confirmation.

From Emily, "Cause of death?"

"As far as they know, it's been strangulation, though most of the boys have suffered contusions around their upper torso and head as well." J.J. answered.

Almost to herself, Emily reflected, "they were beaten."

Only Morgan saw Reid's reaction to this news as he surreptitiously cringed. The young agent struggled to push his emotional reaction away as Emily continued.

"Any evidence of sexual abuse?"

J.J. answered, "I'm afraid so."

"So he's a physically violent sexual predator. That's fairly rare, isn't it?" Morgan asked.

Using this as a way to avoid his emotions, Reid responded with, "Yes actually. Most sexual predators lure their victims in with promises of gifts. They'll threaten the child with harm, or tell him they'll hurt his parents, but the threat is usually menacing enough to gain compliance. They genuinely believe they love their victims, and that the victim returns that love and is a willing accomplice in their deviant acts."

Hearing the exhaustion and remaining congestion in his friend's voice, Morgan shot Reid a worried look. The kid had been mildly ill lately and Hotch had considered benching him for this case. Morgan had convinced their boss that Reid would be fine, and Hotch had given his okay with the proviso that the young agent rest as much as possible.

Emily asked J.J., "Where were these boys found?"

"Generally, they were found buried in shallow graves in the woods."

"He didn't just dump the bodies. Shows the unsub cared about these boys." Morgan speculated still watching Reid closely. "Was there any other information, J.J.?"

"No, just this so far. The last two bodies found are at the morgue. Hotch mentioned wanting Reid to go with him to take a look when we get there."

Reid looked almost nauseous at this proposition, but he didn't say anything. Morgan, of course, noticed the hesitance, but decided now was not the time to bring it up. Instead, he said, "Okay, this is a long flight, so we should get as much rest as we can. I don't think we'll be getting much sleep once we get there."

Though it was still early in the day J.J. and Emily, noticing how intently Morgan was watching Reid, silently nodded their agreement and wandered off in search of a relatively comfortable spot to relax.

Reid remained in his seat. He was fixated on the pictures of the boys. Morgan slowly started gathering the photos together in a pile and turned them face down. Reid looked up at the older agent with questioning eyes.

Quietly, Morgan said, "you can still sit this one out, kid."

Morgan's words hadn't been loud enough for anyone but Reid to hear over the roar of the jet, but the young man looked anxiously around to make sure. His response was uncharacteristically heated, "I'm fine, Morgan. You can stop babysitting me now."

The older man's head cocked to one side. They had had this conversation in the past, and it generally pointed to Reid feeling unsettled about his ability to function under emotional stress. The kid was all facts and logic, but when he could no longer push disturbing thoughts away, he lost all sense of confidence. The problem was he had never learned to deal with his emotions thinking they made him seem weak in the eyes of others. Without reacting, Morgan waited for the young man to calm down.

Predictably, Reid eventually lowered his eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

Gently, Morgan asked, "Was it the pictures?"

Reid looked up at Morgan, chewed his bottom lip and nodded in the affirmative, "they were strangled to death, Morgan."

To Morgan he resembled a tired, lost puppy. "Why don't you go lie down for a while?" At the look of resistance Morgan played his hidden ace, "Come on, kid. Hotch'll have my hide if I let you exhaust yourself before we even get to Seattle."

Reid gave in. He rose from his seat, walked to the long settee-like seat behind him, and laid down. He knew Hotch would pull him from this case without a second thought if he didn't take care of himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to keep the pictures out of his head, but try as he might he simply couldn't. As he rolled over he wondered again how anyone could be so cruel to children. He wondered why the perps didn't seek help before going this far.

Morgan sat covertly watching Reid's restlessness. The kid was really upset about this one, and with the recent renewal of his drug cravings tied so closely with a child's death, this could be his undoing. Hotch had just begun working with the young agent, helping him deal with the cravings. Morgan was sure it was too soon to put this kind of pressure on Reid. He tried to remind himself that the kid was stronger than he looked, and he was incredibly motivated to kick his addiction to dilaudid. Morgan decided he had to give the kid a chance if this was what he wanted, but he was going to keep a close eye on the young agent in the meantime.

The jet was still about an hour out from landing at Sea-Tac Airport when Reid finally gave up on trying to rest. He realized he'd begun to perseverate on the images and needed a distraction. Sitting up, he longingly looked at his messenger bag sitting on the floor near Morgan. Buried deep on the bottom was a needle and an unused bottle of dilauded. Though Morgan had been watching him like a cat watches a can of tuna lately, he had managed to sneak away long enough to obtain the drug. At the moment the feelings of guilt were minimal compared to his need to escape, if only for a short time, the feelings of despair he was experiencing. A soft voice deep inside told him he should tell Morgan about the vile in his possession, but he simply couldn't give it up. It felt like his lifeline. A much louder voice reminded him that one small hit would make the pain go away. No one would have to know. Reid turned his eyes to the small restroom door. All he had to do was casually walk over to the bag, pick it up and just as casually walk into the restroom.

He'd hardly realized he was actually moving until he heard Morgan's voice, "Where're you goin', kid?"

Reid froze, and then turned around to face the older man. "I – uh – I'm going to the restroom." He even sounded guilty to himself, and he began to fidget.

Morgan's ever expressive eyebrows shot up, "with your bag?"

"Umm, no," he gave an unconvincing snigger. To Morgan's questioning glance, Reid backpedaled both figuratively and literally, "I was just moving it over here. I have some paperwork . . . to, umm . . . yeah . . ." He nervously dropped the bag on the seat he'd been occupying, stiffly turned and nearly ran to the restroom leaving Morgan feeling concerned about the kid's unexpected behavior change.

In the small restroom Reid frantically shook his hands trying to relieve the feelings of embarrassment and disappointment. He'd just made a fool of himself in front of Morgan and still hadn't managed to get himself alone with the dilaudid. He willed himself to calm down and, when that didn't work, splashed his face with cold water. If he didn't pull it together, Morgan was going to start asking questions. Again Reid heard the quiet voice telling him to turn the drug over to the older agent. He shook his head as if actually talking to someone. The other voice – the loud one – told him he could handle it. He wasn't sure what the voice meant by 'handle it', but it was an easier option than giving up his lifeline.

Meanwhile, Morgan was combing through the case files trying to find anything that might point to finding this unsub. What did they have so far? Six strangled boys who all collected coins, and a violent unsub who also cared about his victims. Morgan wondered if the boys had any other commonalities. He wanted to look at all the possible demographics: age, height, weight, hair and eye color, where they lived, how they lived, and any other hobbies. He also wanted to interview as many of the parents as he could. Maybe one of them knew more than they realized.

Several minutes later the restroom door popped open, ejecting a smoothed down but still anxious looking Reid. Morgan scrutinized him out of the corner of his eye as he resumed his seat. The older agent watched as Reid opened his bag, looked inside, then as if frightened by what he found there, clapped it shut and hurriedly stuffed it under a nearby seat. When he sat back, arms crossed tightly around him, he didn't take his eyes off the bag.

Morgan knit his brow at the peculiar activity and had just decided to go investigate when Emily plopped down in front of him. She had her own copy of the case file in her hand. As was her bent, without preamble, she asked, "why so far apart?"

Distracted, Morgan gave her a perplexed stare.

She continued, "I mean, wouldn't it be easier just to pick up kids in the neighborhood? Why move around so much?"

Morgan postulated, "Could be a way to avoid detection. It's worked well for that purpose so far."

Emily was skeptical, "Maybe, but still, this is hundreds of miles we're talking about. Seems a little extreme just to cover your tracks, don't ya think? What if the unsub travels a lot? Like a sales person, or a contractor, or even a retiree with an R.V.?"

"You know, an R.V.'s a good idea," Morgan ruminated, "The boys are always found a few weeks later and close to where they were taken. He has to be keeping them some place, and a hotel would be too risky."

Gazing concernedly in Reid's direction, J.J. approached the other two agents. "We'll be landing in about 15 minutes." After years of this drill, they understood that to mean the pilot wanted them to buckle up in preparation. As they began situating themselves, J.J. asked, "What's up with Spence?"

He was still sitting, arms crossed, nearly glaring at his bag. Emily, seemingly noticing him for the first time, shrugged and turned to Morgan for answers. Morgan studied their youngest agent a moment before answering, "He's fine." Though he knew that wasn't entirely true. He acted as though he was in some sort of angry trance, and clearly he hadn't heard J.J announce their imminent landing. Morgan called over to him, "Reid." When he received no response, he tried a little louder, "Hey man!" The young man finally blinked and slowly slid his gaze toward the familiar sound of Morgan's voice, "We're about to land. Buckle up."

Reid, still on the edge of his reverie, automatically began following orders. He yanked his bag out from under the seat and moved to sit in the chair next to Emily. As he secured himself in, the rest of the team silently watched him for clues to his odd behavior. He offered none, but carefully schooled himself into a relaxed affect.

As the plane descended the team sat in congenial silence. Some thinking about the case, others thinking about the dark magical pull of dilaudid.

**XOXOXOXO**

**Okay, that was a bit more Reid-centric than I had planned, but it almost had to be at first. The rest of the story will focus more on the case. :) **

**Generally, I have several chapters written before I post, but I just don't this time. This means subsequent chapters will be slower coming than usual I'm afraid. And because I'm about the start the class I've been dreading since I started grad school, things may be even slower. If you'd like to help speed things along, I'm far more inclined to write faster the more reviews I get. It's up to you really – no pressure.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Were you beginning to think I'd never get the next chapter published? Yeah, me too! Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season full of all sorts of things to be grateful for. Me? I'm grateful for a couple weeks off from school and few days off from work to spend with my most favorite past-time: Writing FF. **

**Please sit back with a cup of hot cocoa (unless you're reading this here in Colorado where a glass of iced tea might be more refreshing – where's our snow?), a sugar cookie and enjoy the on-going adventure.**

**I do not own, rent or otherwise lay claim to Criminal Minds, I simply use it for my own twisted fantasies.**

**XOXOXOXOXO**

At the airport the team was met by a local agent sent to deliver them to the hotel. The conference was just wrapping up as they arrived, and most of the attending were already headed out the door and on their way home to enjoy the final hours of their weekend with family. Hotch and Rossi were in the lobby, surrounded by a local F.B.I. agent and two Seattle Police Department detectives. As his team joined them, Hotch introduced everyone, "Agent Nevin, Detectives Schuler and Bains, this is my team: S.S.A. Derek Morgan, S.S.A. Emily Prentice, Dr. Spencer Reid and I believe you've spoken with Agent Jareau already."

Each member in turn shook hands with the locals, except Reid who shyly waved from the back of the crowd. As the last agent greeted everyone, she corrected with a smile, "J.J., please."

Once pleasantries were exchanged, Hotch immediately moved forward, "The latest murder victim was found nearby yesterday evening. He was 13-years-old, which seems to be fitting the general age demographic of 11 to 14-year-olds. Dave is heading over to the dump site with Detective Schuler. Prentice and Morgan, I'd like you to pay a visit to the family. See if you can dig up anything new on this boy. Detective Bains will take you. Reid and J.J., you're with me. Agent Nevin, I understand two more bodies have been delivered to the morgue. Would you mind taking us there so we can have a look?"

Everyone nodded and joined their assigned local person in pursuit of their goal. Morgan, however, stealthily slipped the NA list to Hotch before taking his leave.

XOXOXOXOXO

Rossi found himself in a residential area of Maple Leaf, a small suburb of Seattle. He thought to himself, 'No wonder serial killers like Western Washington so well. No matter where you are, you're surrounded by a forest.' A body being dumped might stand out any place else, but here, the ability to conceal illicit activity is effortless. Scanning the quiet neighborhood, he pulled his Gortex jacket tighter against the chill mist incessantly falling. The detective talked while escorting him deeper into the wooded area at the edge of the cul-de-sac, "The boy was identified as Joshua Cutter. His parents and little sister live about eight miles from here." Only a hundred steps into the woods and Rossi realized he was completely hidden from any of the neighborhood homes. Sound was deadened by the foliage, moss and rain.

Rossi asked, "How long had the body been here before it was discovered?"

"The forensic unit estimated he'd been here about 14 hours. Dead for maybe 16 to 18 hours by that time, but it's difficult to tell."

"Why is that, Detective?"

"The weather. As you can imagine all this rain significantly speeds up decomposition. Our local forensic team does a great job at estimating, but that's the best they can do."

Rossi continued to poke around the site. The shallow grave was clearly marked with yellow tape and red flags. "How was the boy's body found?" he wanted to know.

The detective seemed distressed when he answered, "Some school children were on their way home and stumbled upon it."

Eyebrows raised in shock, Rossi asked, "Walking home from school alone? Through these woods?"

"Sure. Walking through the woods to get to and from school is normal around here. These woods are riddled with paths to schools, playgrounds and community centers. Kids rarely walk on the streets around here. I don't suppose you noticed we don't really have any sidewalks?"

Rossi had noticed that actually. Residential streets in Seattle appear unfinished because of this odd trait, but he simply said, "Seems dangerous to allow children to walk alone in these woods."

Detective Schuler merely shrugged. He had grown up in a small town near here, and it had been a normal and perfectly safe part of his childhood too.

Once Rossi had gotten the lay of the land he and the detective headed back to the car. The air was becoming cold quickly and Rossi was eager to find a warmer, dryer area to process what he'd gathered. At the car he took one last look around the empty street. He supposed playing outside was a rare occurrence for these children with weather like this. "Did any of the neighbors see anything suspicious the day before the body was found? A car or person they didn't recognize?"

Pointing to the house at the right, the detective answered, "Mr. Clarke said he saw an old camper parked here when he took the garbage out that night, but it was gone the next morning. He said it appeared empty and assumed it belonged to a neighbor's visiting relatives."

XOXOXOXOXO

Prentice, Morgan and Detective Bains were led by the maid into the sitting room of a pristine McMansion. As they waited for the parents of the latest murdered boy to arrive, Morgan and Prentice automatically began snooping around. Detective Bains, who did not appreciated being loaned out by the precinct as a glorified chauffer, stood out of their way, but complained, "We've already gotten statements from the parents. I don't see what good this is going to do."

The BAU was used to this kind of contention from the locals and were unperturbed. Morgan stated, "We'll be watching for behaviors. See these pictures over here?" He pointed at the two large, silver-framed photos hanging on the wall. One of a distinguished older gentleman in a tailored jacket and tie, smoking a cigar. The other of a well-dressed woman, probably his wife, who seemed accustom to holding prominence over those around her. "See how they are the most pronounced items in this room? My guess," he continued, "is that these are the parents who afforded this family the means to live in this fashion. In return they expect a lot from them, including overt appreciation. This kid's parent's put a great deal of effort into pleasing these two." Again Morgan indicated the framed pair.

Bains, arms crossed, shrugged, "so?"

From across the room, Prentice answered, "They didn't have a lot of time left over for their son. He probably craved attention."

Moments later, Mr. Cutter, briefcase still in hand, hurried through the door, "Sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic." He wore the suit and tie of an executive though he couldn't be much older than 35. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and he seemed to keep himself in shape. Probably a runner, Morgan silently surmised.

The four exchanged greetings, then Prentice curiously asked, "Will Mrs. Cutter be joining us?"

"She wanted to be here, but she's stuck in a board meeting. She'll join us if she can get away, but honestly, I don't know what more we can tell you. When we arrived home from work, we found the house locked up, nothing out of place, and Joshua gone."

"The doors were locked? And no signs of a struggle or forced entry?" Morgan asked this of Detective Bains.

He answered, "No. Nothing at all."

Morgan turned to Prentice and declared, "He left voluntarily."

This was evident to Prentice as well, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Cutter becoming upset. No parent wants to believe their child would willingly place themselves in harm's way. To distract him, Prentice asked, "And what about his sister?"

"Abby? She's too young to stay here alone, so we have her in an afterschool day care program. She came home with me that night."

Morgan inquired, "Was it normal for Joshua to leave the house after he got home from school, Mr. Cutter?"

"Never," was the emphatic reply. "He was strictly forbidden to leave the house after school, and until this happened, to my knowledge he never did." Mr. Cutter's voice cracked with emotion as he continued, "He was a quiet boy, Agent Morgan. Never caused any problems. Straight A's in school. When he was home, he was either doing homework or pouring over his coin collection books. He loved those stupid coins."

Prentice stepped in again, "We know this is difficult, Mr. Cutter, but may we see Joshua's bedroom?"

Quickly composing himself, the grieving father said, "Certainly. It's this way." He led the trio up a giant staircase and into an immaculate boy's room. Morgan's eyes went wide as he took in the showroom quality of this space. He whispered to Prentice, "No self-respecting 13-year-old boy would be caught dead in a room like this." Prentice only smirked.

Morgan did a slow, evidence-gathering circuit around the periphery of the room, while Prentice moved directly to the only spot that could be considered even remotely disorderly – the boy's desk. Detective Bains followed Prentice. With latex gloved hands, she carefully lifted the books, magazines and catalogs, scanning for anything that might give them a lead. All of the coin collecting reading material was dog eared, and the catalogs had choice coins circled in red marking pen. One small flier had a URL address the boy had highlighted. It clearly led to further coin offers on-line.

Almost distractedly, Prentice asked, "Was Joshua's collection extensive, Mr. Cutter?"

"For a boy his age, I suppose it was. It's right here if you'd like to take a look." Not waiting for a reply, he slowly opened the door to a large built-in cabinet. Inside, were precisely placed rows of coins with the years and descriptions neatly labeled beneath each one. Morgan and Prentice knowingly glanced at each other. The tidiness of the collection, indeed of the entire bedroom, told them more about this boy's need to please than anything else. He was also quite likely OCD and had a drive to control his surroundings, which made his disappearance an even greater mystery. Children with OCD are reluctant to change their daily patterns. If he went without a struggle, this unsub must have offered him something he really wanted.

Abruptly, Morgan turned to shake Mr. Cutter's hand, "Thank you for your time, Sir. We appreciate you letting us in for another look around. We'll be in touch if we find anything more." He wanted to check out another victim's home and family before it got too late.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As police headquarters was on the way, Hotch and Reid dropped J.J. and Agent Nevin off so they could prepare an area for the BAU to set up when they returned. Now behind the wheel, Hotch glanced at Reid sitting beside him. The younger man had been quiet. Perhaps this was a result of the cold he was still fighting off, but Hotch suspected it was something deeper. "How are you doing?"

Immediately on the defensive, Reid answered, "Fine. I'm fine."

"Reid." Hotch warned, "It's important that you're honest with me about this. If anything is bothering you – if your cravings come back – anything at all, I need to know about it."

The younger man nodded his understanding. He desperately wanted to tell Hotch about the drugs in his possession. He didn't understand why it felt so impossible to just open his mouth and say the words. If he did, Hotch would be disappointed, but it wouldn't last long. If he waited, and Hotch found out (who was he kidding? Hotch always found out!), he would be disappointed and angry. Though this was not a pleasant alternative, he simply couldn't bring himself to give up his vile of dilaudid. Just one small hit, he told himself. Then, he could confess everything. The problem was that he now had to find a good time and place to shoot up.

As Hotch pulled the vehicle into the nearest parking space, he did not immediately exit. Instead, he took out the NA meetings list and studied it for the first time. The implication for Reid was clear. He was going to be attending one very soon. He sighed quietly and waited for Hotch to finish.

Glancing up from the paper, Hotch said, "You're in luck. There's an open meeting in a couple of hours not far from here. It's in Pioneer Square. Morgan or I will go with you." Reid was about to protest his need for an escort, but Hotch was faster, "Uh-uh. If memory serves, that's a fairly disreputable part of town. I don't want any of my agents down there alone." Knowing he wasn't being singled out for protection seemed to appease Reid somewhat, but the truth was that Hotch didn't want him to have such easy access to the rampant drugs in that area of town. It was simply too great a temptation to burden his youngest agent with.

This bit of business settled, Hotch led the way into the morgue. The coroner was expecting them and had readied the two boy's bodies for examination in preparation. Though he was feeling squeamish about seeing the bodies, Reid managed to shut out his emotions and present a professional affect. Hotch stood back as Reid carefully studied the lifeless body of Joshua Cutter.

"No ligature marks, but these look like they were made by a human hand. Holds with the theory that they're being strangled to death." As the reality of this hit him, Reid had to reaffirm his grasp on his professionalism. Hotch caught the beat he took to do this. The young doctor moved to the second body, that of Cole Lunnar, and continued his examination. Finding the same marks on the neck, he turned to the coroner, "did you find anything else?"

She answered, "both boys had skin under their nails, but we didn't get a match from the DNA data base. As I understand it, there were also no matches with the fingerprints that were lifted. They each had a new coin in their pockets," she handed one bagged coin to each agent for inspection. Hotch and Reid studied them carefully before handing them back to her. "One thing is odd about these boys though."

Hotch looked keenly at the coroner, "What's that?"

She pulled the cloth covering the upper torsos of each boy back. Indicating the dark bruising on Cole's arms and chest, she said, "This one was beaten regularly during his captivity. His entire body is riddled with this type and degree of bruising." She then pointed to the relatively bruise-free body of Joshua, "This one received far fewer beatings. Judging by the pictures I've seen of the other boys, each one was treated differently."

Confused, Reid glanced at Hotch, "More than one unsub?" he ventured.

"I don't think so. Each boy is probably presenting him with distinctive stressors, and he lashes out differently with each."

Reid turned back to the coroner, "You said prints and skin were tested for DNA matches, but you didn't say anything about semen."

"That's because there wasn't any. Both of these boys showed signs of recent penetration, but no semen was left behind."

"Along with some of the other evidence, I'd say he's highly organized then." Reid reflected.

Hotch grimly nodded his agreement as his cell phone rang. "Hotchner," he answered. He listened for a moment, and then finished with, "Good. We'll meet you back at police headquarters when you're finished." Hanging up, he filled Reid in, "Morgan and Prentice are going to interview Cole's parents." He turned to the coroner, "Thank you. We'll be in contact if we have further questions."

Walking back to the car, the two men discussed the new evidence. Hotch wanted to have a working profile ready by morning. First, however, he needed to get his youngest agent into the habit of attending regular NA meetings. This case was clearly weighing on him, and he needed the support of others who have experienced some of the same things. He plugged in the address of the meeting location into the GPS and determinedly drove the two of them the few blocks to the Pioneer Square building.

Reid knew where they were going, but he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He remained passive and quiet in the passenger's seat realizing he may finally be given his chance to use the dilaudid. After seeing the damage done to those boy's bodies, he was feeling his cravings even more now. He clenched his messenger bag to his chest, reassuring himself that it, and the drugs, were still there. Again, that quiet voice tried to convince him to give up the drugs to Hotch, but this time the louder voice successfully quieted it without much effort. Just one tiny hit was all he thought he needed.

Pulling into the densely packed streets of Pioneer Square, Hotch pulled into a no-parking area just outside the building. Taking Reid's silence as sulking, he turned to his agent and solemnly said, "I know you're not happy about this, but it really is the best thing for you right now." Not wanting to give away his true thoughts, Reid kept his eyes lowered and nodded his head in acquiescence. As he pushed open his door, Hotch continued, "I'll meet you back here in an hour."

Reid felt a fleeting stab of guilt as he shut the car door and walked up the stairs to the meeting. Hotch was being too kind, and he knew he owed it to him to be honest. Again, though, he pushed these thoughts away in favor of focusing on finding a quiet, secluded place to shoot up. Inside, the way to the meeting was clearly marked. The young agent nervously licked his lips and looked around for a restroom. He found an empty one just down the hall. With shaking hands, he entered, and finding it empty, he quickly locked himself inside one of the stalls.

Feeling around the bottom of his bag, he did not immediately find what he was looking for. A brief moment of panic set in as he continued his hunt. When his hand found the needle, he let out the breath he'd been holding. Then he continued searching for the small vial of dilaudid. His hand landed on something hard, cold and round, but it was flat. Immediately, he knew what it was. Again he stopped breathing as he pulled it from the bag. When had he put the 1-year N.A. coin in his bag? He remembered casually tossing it in as he was getting ready for bed the night before. Feeling the cold metal edge, he stared closely at the familiar, simple design. The words of the man who had loaned this to him rang back clearly. He had talked about losing his job and his family if he ever forgot the importance of this coin. Reid's job and his family were one and the same. Without them, he knew he had nothing. How could he turn his back on all that now? He couldn't! With resolve, he jammed the needle back into his back, pocketed the coin and strode into the meeting.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

**Wow! I really thought he was going to do it there for a while. **

**Thanks for reading. Please let me know how you think it's going so far. Would love to hear from you! And in case I don't get the next one posted in the next couple of days, I'm wishing you all a wonderful new year!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh, please dear Goddess, don't let anyone with mad technical skills read this chapter. I did some research before writing Garcia's part (thanks to my technopuppy), but I'm afraid I'm essentially hopeless when it comes to computers. Please be kind in your reviews.**

**This is where you might benefit from reading chapter 10 of Condemned. It'll stand without it, but if you're looking for a little more background, that's where you can find it.**

**I do not own, rent or otherwise lay claim to Criminal Minds, I simply use it for my own twisted fantasies.**

**XOXOXOXO**

Detective Bains drove Morgan and Prentice from the Cutter's home in Green Lake the short distance to the Lunnar's home in the University District. This neighborhood was strikingly different from the first. The homes were older and middle class. Prentice noticed that the Lunnar's front lawn was verging on over-grown and one of the windows maintained a large crack covered with clear tape.

Four weeks had passed since their son had gone missing. His body had been found sooner than any of the other boy's suggesting the unsub had grown tired of him sooner for some reason. The agents hoped to find out why.

Morgan knocked on the door. Though the Lunnar's had been alerted beforehand of their impending arrival, they waited a full minute before the door opened. Mrs. Lunnar, with her long, dark curly hair and flowing peasant dress, presented like a modern-day hippie. Mr. Lunnar stood behind her. He was dressed comfortably in jeans and cable knit sweater. His long, slightly graying hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail. The scent of incense was strong.

Mrs. Lunnar opened the door wider and offered a sad smile, "Please, come in." As the trio entered their home, she explained, "We were in the middle of cleansing our home of negative energy." Morgan and Prentice exchanged a skeptical glance.

As they were ushered into the living room Prentice asked, "How are you, Mr. and Mrs. Lunnar?"

"Gloria, please, and my husband is Tom. We're doing as well as can be expected, I suppose." Both agents noticed that Tom had not said a word. He seemed to be numbly following his wife around. Judging by the numbers of fertility goddess statues hidden amongst the stacks of dusty books, this was a matriarchal home. Noting Agent Morgan's apparent interest in her books, Gloria continued, "I'm a professor of English literature at the university. Tom teaches Medieval European history."

Morgan, wanting to get back to headquarters as soon as possible, got down to business. "We're interested in learning more about Cole." At the startled, quizzical looks he received from the parents, he clarified, "We think it'll help us better understand the person who did this, and help us catch him."

Though they understood, the parents still seemed hesitant to talk about their son. They acted almost embarrassed. Exchanging tentative glances, Tom began, "Cole was a . . . umm . . . that is, he could occasionally be, well, difficult. He was a good boy. Really. But he was strong-willed. He didn't take guff from anyone. Not even his teachers. In fact, when he was . . . taken, he was on school suspension for a week for, well, for throwing a book at a teacher."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to do it," continued Gloria. "It's just that sometimes he let his anger get the better of him."

Reassuringly, Prentice said, "We're not here to judge Cole, we'd just like to learn more about him. Would it be possible to see his room?"

"Of course," Gloria said, "it's this way." She led them to his small, appropriately messy room.

Once again, Morgan scanned the entire room, while Prentice and Detective Bains did a more thorough search of his computer desk. Skimming over the school papers, book and clothing scattered about the boy's room, Morgan's attention was caught by something jutting out of an official looking envelop. He picked it up to get a better look and found it to be a credit card bill in Cole's name. "Did you know Cole had a credit card?" he asked the parents.

"Yes. He was only allowed to use it if we approved the purchase first." Gloria answered. "We monitored it very closely, so he never misused it."

At Morgan's look of surprise Tom clarified, "My wife and I watch our students get into trouble with credit cards constantly. Last year we decided to start teaching Cole how to be responsible with money. He generally used it to buy new coins for his collection." He opened a drawer and brought out a metal lock box. Opening the box, he handed it to Morgan.

The agent sifted through the tiny envelopes. Each one was labeled with country, year and type. He opened one and poured the coin out. Tom continued, "This was about the only way we connected. We would talk for hours about the history of his coins." Morgan didn't miss the hitch in the man's voice. He replaced the coin and handed the box back to the father.

On Cole's desk Prentice found only two coin related items laid out. One was a brand new catalog that may have been looked through once. On top of this was a small flier nearly identical to the one they had seen on Joshua's desk. Looking closely, Prentice couldn't be certain, but she didn't think the URL was exactly the same as the last one she had found. The main offer itself was different too. This coin was the ECC Constantine Dynasty Mini Albun. Though ancient, it was not worth much. Joshua's had been for the $20 Liberty Head Gold Eagle; a far more valuable coin.

"Hey Morgan." Getting his attention, Prentice handed him the flier, "Take a look at this. There was one a lot like this on Joshua's desk too."

"Do you think it's connected?"

Prentice shrugged, "It's worth a shot."

Morgan didn't hesitate. He dialed Garcia's number, waiting only moments before the cheery answer, "What is it you desire from the techno-goddess?"

"Hey Babygirl. I need you to check out a website."

"Lay it on me, Sugar Lumps." Keying in the address as quickly as Morgan could say it, she quickly had his answer, "Nothing. Looks like it was shut down."

"Can you trace it?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll call when I have something."

She was about to disconnect when Morgan added, "There's another address we think is connected. Can you call the Cutter's and ask them to give you the address in the coin flier on Joshua's desk?"

"No problem. Back with you soon, my love." And she was gone.

Prentice closed her phone shortly after Morgan and explained, "I asked JJ to contact as many of the victim's parents as possible to see if any of them had one of these." She indicated the flier. "She'll send any web addresses she manages to get to Garcia."

Turning back to the parents, Morgan asked with as little judgment as he could manage, "You said Cole was suspended from school? Do you know how he spent his days at home?"

The parents looked at each other. Was that guilt the agents detected? Again it was Gloria who answered, "We asked him to stay indoors and work on his homework, but he was never one for doing as he was told. If he wasn't sleeping when we left for work, he was generally on his computer. I-I'm sure he went out as soon as we were gone. He loved hanging out with the college kids on the campus and in the coffee shops."

Morgan had heard enough, and it was apparent Prentice had as well. She concluded their meeting with, "Mr. and Mrs. Lunnar, thank you for your time. May we contact you if we have further questions?"

"Yes, yes, please do," was Gloria's reply, though she clearly wanted this current meeting to conclude. She was escorting them out the door as quickly as possible.

XOXOXOXOXO

Hotch was lucky to find a parking spot close enough to see the exit he expected Reid to use when he finished. He had spent the last 45 minutes going back through the case files hoping to find anything new. He was having no luck, and he knew he should take a break. Even a short one would help. Carefully replacing everything in his briefcase, he left it in the backseat and stepped out of the vehicle.

He strolled around the old city center admiring the architecture and watching the large crowds of people. Though this was still a fairly dangerous part of town because of the many drug deals, it had been cleaned up and was considered one of the main tourist attractions in Seattle. Hotch watched as a large group passed him. They were enjoying the underground city tour. Most probably had no idea just how seedy this part of town still was.

Hotch glanced at his watch. Reid should be finished any minute. He slowly started heading back toward the NA meeting building. Nearing the door he was distracted by a loud interaction between a mother and her young son. She was gripping him by the wrist and yelling at him as he cried. "Why don't you ever listen? I told you not to get dirty, and look at you! Why don't you love me? Huh? You do this because you hate me! I don't know why I even bother! I should have left you at the hospital when you were born!" The child was sobbing and the mother was clearly out of control. Hotch considered intervening, but sadly without evidence of physical abuse there was little he could do that would make this little boy's life any better. If he said anything to her, she would most likely take it out on the child when they were alone. Once again he wondered why there were no laws protecting children from this kind of emotional abuse.

Reid quietly stepped up behind his boss, "Borderline Personality Disorder." As Hotch turned to the young agent, he continued, "Probably the worst kind of parent a child could have. 75% of Borderlines are women and nearly all have children at a very young age."

Both men turned back to see the woman hustling the crying child onto a city bus. Hotch resignedly said, "Hope she gets some help – for the boy's sake."

Reid nodded his head, but something about this scene had made something click. Hotch recognized that look, "Reid? What is it?"

As the light bulb fully ignited, so did Reid's face, "Hotch! That's it! The unsub! He's a she!"

Hotch was quick, but he didn't quite follow, "Wait, Reid, slow down. Explain."

Just as excitedly, but with more care, the young agent continued, "We've been profiling her as a man because generally men abduct older children like these and because of the evidence of sexual abuse, but what if something happened to her own child and she's abducting these children to replace him? Borderlines seek constant reassurance that they are unconditionally loved. That's the purpose their children serve for them. And we tend to forget that women can be sexual perpetrators too."

As Reid talked, Hotch had guided them back to the vehicle. As they entered, Hotch grabbed his cell and dialed Garcia. When she answered, he didn't give her time to say a word, "Garcia. Reid thinks our unsub might be a woman suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder. I need you to put together a list of women in the Pacific Northwest who have lost a male child in the last year and have been treated for BPD. We're headed back to headquarters now. We'll call when we get the rest of the team assembled."

Garcia thought the search criteria sounded too broad, but she wasn't about to argue with the boss, "Yes, sir. I'll have the list ready for you."

Throwing on his seatbelt, and surreptitiously checking to make sure the distractible Reid did as well, Hotch pulled into traffic.

XOXOXOXOXO

When Rossi arrived at police headquarters, JJ was busy on the phone. He picked up that she was asking one of the parents for some information, but it didn't seem to be going well. When she hung up, she filled in the senior agent about her quest for URL addresses. She wasn't having much luck.

Rossi turned his attention to the evidence board. JJ had filled it in with the bits and pieces the rest of the team had sent in so far. His brow furrowed. This unsub just wasn't fitting into any mold he could come up with. Rossi couldn't get past the fact that sex offenders who are strangers to the children almost never torture or beat the children. He turned as he heard Hotch and Reid enter.

Hotch marched into the room followed closely by Reid. "We may have something. Where are Morgan and Prentice?" Hotch asked.

"Right here." Came the startling reply from Morgan standing in the doorway. As he and Prentice entered, he said, "We think there's a connection between the boys. They all received a coin offer in the mail. I have Garcia checking out the websites from the fliers." Without a pause, he contacted the technician via webcam. "Hey Darlin', what did you find out?"

"In a word? Nothing. Whoever this unsub is, she's good . . ."

Prentice's brow knit in confusion, "Wait, Garcia, did you say 'she'?"

"Yeah. Our super-genius has a theory. But let me finish with the technical skills first. She used a different IP address for each of these sites, and I'm guessing if there are more, she did the same there. They all belong to public libraries. No way to track her through these channels."

"What about the list I asked you to compile?" Hotch reminded her.

"Right. Women who've lost a child? About 1300. Cross referenced with those being treated for BPD? We're down to 24."

"How many of the children were male?" Hotch asked.

"Ummm . . . 14." The technician answered after a few quick key strokes.

"And how many of those were between the ages of 10 and 15 at the time of death?" Hotch persisted.

"Takes us down to 8."

"Good. Send that list over, please, Garcia."

Turning to Reid, Morgan concluded, "So, you're thinking that the bruising on these boys is accounted for by an out-of-control, sexually deviant Borderline?"

Suddenly feeling the spotlight, the young agent became insecure, "I don't know. Maybe." He nervously played with his hands as he continued. "Cole's bruises were substantially greater than those of the other boys'. What did you find out about him?"

Prentice answered, "He was a strong-willed child who didn't respond well to discipline. His parents didn't seem to know what to do with him and had all but given up."

Rossi deliberated, "A frustrated Borderline confronted by a child . . . a person who she feels should be grateful for her caring attention . . . would react violently. Cole's independent personality could explain why she killed him so soon after abducting him."

"Maybe if his parents had taught him some manners, he'd still be alive today," Morgan said half-jokingly.

"Come on, Morgan. They were doing their best." Prentice came to their defense, "They were even trying to teach him how to be responsible with credit."

"Yeah," Morgan scoffed, "Who ever heard of letting a kid have a credit card?"

"Wait!" came a startled reply from the computer screen, "The kid had a credit card?"

"Yeah, he did." Morgan answered.

Refusing to be distracted, Hotch was all business, "Do you have something, Garcia?"

A bit nervously, she answered, "It's just something Reid was saying the other day about credit card purchases."

All eyes returned to Reid, but he looked mystified by the tech's words.

Garcia explained, "Remember? You said that direct marketing companies use credit card purchases to profile buyers and then sell those names to catalogs that best fit their profiles."

"Yeah, yeah! That's brilliant, Garcia!" was Reid's excited reply, "If she used a direct marketing company to narrow down her victim pool, we might be able to find her through one of them. I don't think there are more than three or four companies in the U.S. that specialize in this. It wouldn't be hard to track her down if she used one."

"I'm on it!" Garcia, didn't wait for orders before signing off. She was on a mission.

"Right, the rest of you split up the eight names we have. Let's find out as much as we can on each of them. Look for employment records involving technical computer skills. We also profiled that she might travel for work. Look for that as well. Reid, you're with me. I want you to help me deliver the profile to the area police departments." Hotch and Reid went off in search of teleconferencing facilities.

XOXOXOXOXO

An hour later the team gathered again. As Hotch and Reid entered the room, the older agent asked, "Did anyone find anything on any of the names?"

"We narrowed it down to two possibles," Rossi answered.

Laying an 8X10 mug shot in the middle of the table, Prentice continued, "Amy Caslin, 31, a computer technician for an advertising firm in Tacoma. Currently unemployed but apparently has some means of funding herself as she refused unemployment and continues to live alone. She's been treated for BPD since she was 19, which incidentally was the year after her child was born. He died under mysterious circumstances last year, but the authorities weren't able to find any evidence to prosecute her. She claimed he was playing in his tree house, fell out and his throat was caught by a rope on the way down. Problem was there were no ligature marks to indicate a rope, only bruising. The only hospital visit he had was for a broken arm when he was 8, but post-mortem x-rays suggested several fractures in different stages of healing throughout his body."

Morgan produced his own picture of a different woman, "Jennifer Engene. 29. She's a programmer for a large electrical engineering firm with offices all over the Pacific Northwest and California. She had her son when she was 17 and has been treated for BPD since she was 25 when she was convicted of child abuse. It took her five years of therapy and a judge's consent to get him back. Her live-in boyfriend was imprisoned for the boy's death a year later, but he continues to appeal it."

"They both sound probable." Reid said, "Do we check them both out?"

Hotch delayed them with, "Let's see what Garcia was able to dig up first."

He had already called her up on the screen, so she took her cue, "I started with the largest direct marketing company first. They didn't want to give up their trade secrets at first, but once they understood the situation, they were actually quite helpful. After searching their small business department for likely candidates, they narrowed it down to coin offers and then to those looking for children in the household. Only one name came to the top. Amy Caslin."

"That's her." Prentice concluded, "I have her address right here. We can be there in less than an hour."

". . . That's not all," Garcia announced, "It looks like she's focusing on a small town close to Tacoma this time. Port Orchard. She only buys one name and address at a time from this direct marketing company, which is extremely odd, but she always pays her bills, so they indulge her."

Hotch leaped into action, "Prentice, call the Tacoma P.D. Have them go to her house and bring her in for questioning if she's there. They need to let us know right away if they don't find her. Garcia, what's the address the marketing company sold her?"

"I've sent it to all of your phones along with the phone number and directions."

"Good work, Garcia!" Hotch continued, "J.J., call the family, make sure their children are safe, and find out if any of them collect coins and if they've received a flyer recently."

J.J. nodded and immediately walked away to make the call.

Prentice returned from making her call and reported, "The police are on their way to her house now."

"Hotch." J.J.'s voice sounded strained, "No one's answering at the house in Port Orchard. Do you want me to call the local authorities?"

"Yes, but tell them to look for an old camper in the area. If they find it, they need to call it in, but not approach. Have them station an unmarked car outside the house. They should only make contact if any boys leave the house alone. Otherwise, they need to wait until we arrive." Spotting the man he wanted to talk with in the hall, Hotch called out, "Agent Nevin." As he walked in to join the BAU team, Hotch asked, "What's the fastest way to a town called Port Orchard?"

The agent thought for a moment before answering, "You can take a ferry over to Bremerton then drive around to Port Orchard, but this time of evening there's not much traffic. Driving around through Tacoma would be faster."

Making an immediate decision, Hotch declared, "By the time we get to Tacoma, we should have heard something from the local PD. If they're not able to find her, we'll go on to Port Orchard. She's due for her next abduction any time. Let's go."

As one, the BAU team headed for the large, black Suburban set aside for them. By the time they reached Tacoma, they had been alerted of the failure to find the unsub at home. Meeting up with a patrol car, Reid and J.J. were escorted to the woman's house to search for more clues. As planned, the remainder of the team continued on to the small town just north of them. The reports from the locals were regarding finding an empty house. As Garcia now had a license plate number connected with their unsub, Prentice asked the local PD to be looking for this vehicle.

Arriving at the Port Orchard address 30 minutes later, they found another large McMansion. The lights were off and no one answered the door. Morgan looked at his watch, "It's 10:20 on a Monday night. Where is everyone?"

As if on cue headlights turned into the long driveway. The BMW stopped, and leaving the engine running, a man stepped out of the driver's side. "What's going on here?" He demanded.

Flashing his badge, Hotch told the man they were worried about his son. The man's wife, looking concerned, stepped out of the passenger's side.

"We believe a suspect may be targeting your son, Ma'am," Prentice called out.

Both parents hurried to the front door to let the agents in. The mother, finding the house quiet, ran up the staircase and disappeared. Morgan moved to follow her, but Hotch stopped him, realizing that if the boy was not there they would know about it soon enough.

Frantically, the mother returned to the top of the stairs, "He's not here! Where could he have gone?"

Instinctively knowing their roles, Prentice went to the mother to calm her down and extract information from her. Rossi did the same with the father. Morgan immediately called the local PD to get an update on their search for the camper before he started searching the house for clues, and Hotch checked in with JJ and Reid.

"Have you found anything, Reid?" Hotch asked into his cell.

"Yeah, Hotch, she's definitely attracted to children. We found boxes of child porn mixed in with photos of her own child in . . . a . . . compromising positions. Garcia's looking at her computer now. Also, it looks like she's been earning money as a sort of underground distributer of collectable coins. Her agenda indicates she has a meeting with a coin shop on Jackson Boulevard tomorrow morning." He pulled up a topographical map on his laptop, "There's a large community park nearby surrounded with trees. It would be easy to hide a large vehicle in there overnight."

"Good work, Reid. Keep digging." He hung up the phone and turned to find Prentice entering the room.

Handing him a familiar looking flyer, she grimly said, "Hotch, this was sitting next to the boy's computer."

"Stay with the family. See what else you can turn up." As he watched her return to the mother, he called out, "Morgan! Reid thinks she might be hiding out in a park. Come on." Both men bolted out the door to the waiting Suburban.

Plugging the coordinates of the park into the GPS, they found it was only 5 minutes away. Morgan got them there as quickly as possible.

Reid was right. It was a large park. There was one main road in but it was completely surrounded by thick woods. Morgan flicked off the headlights and slowed the vehicle to a crawl. "If she's here, we'll find her." The younger agent said as much to reassure himself as anyone.

They continued to drive further into the seemingly deserted park. The road was beginning to narrow and appeared to be about to end when Hotch spotted something out of place, "There!" He pointed off to the right, "about 20 yards in."

Beside him, Morgan squinted into the darkness. He couldn't be certain, but whatever it was looked to be about the size of a camper. He cut the engine and both agents exited. Weapons drawn, they quietly approached. Without saying a word, Morgan pointed out the fresh, off-road tire tracks in the mud. Hotch acknowledged his find with a nod. Unconsciously, both men increased their efforts at stealth.

Reaching the structure, they found it was indeed an old camper. Looking at the plates, Hotch confirmed they were approaching the correct vehicle. Morgan reached up to the door handle, glanced at his colleague to verify he was ready, and then jerked the door open. Aiming both his flashlight and gun inside, they found their unsub, clearly having been asleep, startled and sitting up in bed. Keeping their weapons trained on the disheveled woman, Morgan ordered, "Hands up! Keep them up!"

Hotch bolted inside to search for the missing boy. Morgan followed quickly behind to take the suspect into custody. Hotch flung the thin curtain back from the upper bunk and found a set of frightened eyes staring back at him. The boy had been gagged and bound. As quickly and gently as possible, Hotch freed the boy and comforted him as well as he could.

Morgan had already escorted the woman into the backseat of their vehicle and was waiting patiently for his boss to bring the boy out. Hotch drove them back to the boy's home, leaving Morgan to guard their unsub in the backseat.

The local police department was waiting for them there. Having taken the parents' statements, they allowed the boy to be released to them while taking the suspect to their holding cells for the evening. Federal agents from the Seattle office would take her into custody tomorrow morning.

XOXOXOXO

Hotch scanned the jet, looking over his sleeping team with stoic pride. The long flight back to D.C. was quiet. Everyone was exhausted from the long day and only a few short hours of sleep, but Hotch had insisted on leaving as early as possible Tuesday morning. He wanted everyone to have some time to decompress at home before returning to work Wednesday.

Hotch also wanted to have the time to check in with Reid once they returned home. They needed to start working on his triggers and create an escape plan should his triggers become too overwhelming.

He glanced over at his youngest agent as he felt the jet begin its descent. He had his long body curled up over two seats, his arms wrapped tightly around him. On the floor below him, Hotch watch as Reid's battered messenger bag flopped over from the gravitational differences brought on by the jet's new angle. His eyes narrowed as a small vile rolled out of the bag. He reached out to grab it before it rolled under a seat. There was no doubt in his mind what this vile contained. Hotch felt an immediate stab of disappointment, followed quickly by anger.

Hovering over Reid, he grabbed the young man's shoulder and firmly shook him. Before Reid could fully comprehend what was happening, Hotch held out the small vile in his palm and sternly asked, "What is this, Reid?"

Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, he registered the ire in Hotch's tone, but he had no idea what he had done wrong. He looked up in confusion at his boss' grim visage and blinked stupidly before slowly dropping his eyes to Hotch's outstretched hand.

Hotch watched as the color drained from the young man's face. This told him more than anything else what he needed to know.

"H-Hotch, I . . . " Reid apprehensively lifted his eyes back up to Hotch's face. The displeasure he saw there utterly silenced him.

The End (story to be continued under a new title)!

**XOXOXOXO**

**So, for the first time I feel like I could really have used a beta reader. There's just so much information to keep straight and convey at the proper times, I kept getting lost. Please consider this a first draft. I'm sure there're holes in the story. I'm open to your thoughts about this, but please be nice. Perhaps someday I'll publish a revised version.**

**In any case I hope you enjoyed, and you know I love to hear from you. If you review and leave a response link, I will write back. Thank you for reading!**


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